


Bedroom Hymns

by rinrinalin



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossdressing, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinrinalin/pseuds/rinrinalin
Summary: I wrote this some years ago for an exchange. I am terrible at summaries and tagging and I welcome suggestions.Nino's an elite priest of the Godess of Sex, promised for the evening to a certain prince of the realm, much to his delight.
Relationships: Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Bedroom Hymns

glossary

_Ashmali_ : the first God of all

_Ruiru_ : the Goddess of love, sex and absolution

_baraka-enye_ : also called raka, priests and priestesses of the Goddess Ruiru

_promesse_ : the contract between a patron and baraka-enye

_malaya_ : baraka-enye in active sexual service to the godess

_buure_ : the brand on baraka-enye that signals they are no longer indentured to the temple

~

One did not reach the holiest of ranks among the  _ baraka-enye _ by chance or luck--in fact, some who were chosen found it to be more of a curse than a blessing and abdicated all but the lowliest strata of service. And one certainly didn’t become the most renowned _baraka-enye_ in living memory without enjoying the work. It was work, after all, even if it was done in honor of  _ Ruiru _ , the goddess whose sacrifices gave succor to  _ Ashmali _ before his ascension to heaven.

Of course, that was many, many years ago and some of the old ways had been forgotten or morphed into something more convenient than they once were. Rarely did one seek a  _ malaya _ for the sole purpose of worship anymore and even fewer sent their children to be raised at the Temple of Ruiru and of those, only the uniquely suited were dedicated to her service.

It was that which made Ninomiya Kazunari such a rare prize to be won.

Nino, as he preferred to be called by other  _ raka _ and patrons alike, had been dedicated to  _ Ruiru _ since the age of seventeen and earned his  _ buure _ , tattooed at the nape of his neck, by the time he’d reached twenty-five. For nearly three years now he had been able to choose his own patrons; to give succor as did  _ Ruiru _ , or earn coin to line his coffers or simply for the joy losing himself in the arms of another.

These days, for Nino, it took a combination of all three to stir him to sign a  _ promesse _ . The prices that he garnered and the infrequency of which he accepted offers had made him something of a modern sensation. He attracted the attention of even the highest born in court. Those that followed the goings-on in the Temple of Ruiru (aristocracy and layman alike) would make bets on the  _ malaya _ , like in the games in coliseums of old, and whole estates had changed hands at the failure to anticipate Nino’s whim.

Nino himself had made something of a game out of it, trying to defy expectations and deepen his mystique. He would be accomplishing it three-fold with the  _ promesse _ he had signed for tonight.

He luxuriated in the private bath, eyes closed as he let the impurities of days spent indoors seep from his skin. Steam wafted up from the scented waters, curling the ends of his hair and easing the tension from around his eyes.

“Are you  _ still _ in here?” Aiba bumbled into the bathing room, loud and clumsy and with a gust of cool air that raised goosebumps across Nino’s arms.

“You never did learn how to be graceful, did you?” Nino drawled, eyeing his friend and dresser with barely concealed amusement.

Aiba had never managed to ascend any higher than the rank of Pastor among  _ baraka-enye _ . Nino was secretly grateful, since he’d never truly believed Aiba was suited for the work--he was too fragile, too emotional, too quick to fall in love. Instead, Aiba was caretaker for the dedicated  _ malaya _ before and after their assignations, and Nino had requested him exclusively since his dedication (the one time he had taken ill and Nino was forced to endure the attentions of Chinen, he had thrown a tantrum to rival the Princess of Concresia).

“Pastors don’t need to be graceful,” Aiba reminded him. “Just quick.”

“And careful,” Nino reminded.

“And careful,” Aiba agreed with a bright smile. “But I don’t see that you’ll exactly be needing it tonight.”

“Idiot,” Nino shot back, lacking any venom. “You’d better not be sloppy. I’m trusting you. No one will believe me if you do a bad job.”

The other man simply laughed, rolled up the sleeves of his white tunic and knelt at the side of the tub. He lathered up a cloth with honeysoap. “I wasn’t aware you  _ wanted _ your deception to be successful.”

“Isn’t that the fun of it? That only he and I will know until after the fact?” He leaned forward so Aiba could begin to wash his back. “Let them wonder.”

“I thought the fun of it was everyone knowing you accepted his  _ promesse _ again.” Aiba was quiet for a beat. “This is the fourth time, you know.”

“Mmmm.”

“You never accept a patron more than twice,” Aiba said lightly, working the cloth down Nino’s slender arms.

“You said that the third time I accepted him.”

“The third time you said he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

Nino cast him a glance over his shoulder, “I couldn’t. It paid your  _ buure _ , didn’t it?”

Aiba touched the back of his neck, remembering the pain of the needles that had marked him a free man just seven months ago. He had decided to continue his work at the Temple for at least as long as Nino remained dedicated to  _ Ruiru _ . He didn’t know how long that might be and he’d never asked. Still, there was little to complain about living in the temple, the work was mostly fun (especially with Nino) and it was rarely difficult.

“You shouldn’t have,” He replied, an argument he’d made more than once since Nino had given him the heavy purse of coin.

Nino rolled his eyes, “If I hadn’t, you’d be indentured here until old age.” Any of those not dedicated to service earned their coin on the gratitude of the other  _ baraka-enye _ . Few of the raka saw fit to relinquish any of their earnings to the people who tended them day and night. “Like Ophelius.”

Aiba giggled, “I would never be like Ophelius. Nino, that’s not nice.”

He smirked and did an impression of the oldest servant of  _ Ruiru _ in residence, “I’m Aiba. Aiba...Aiba...Maiki? Aiba Maiuki?”

“Oi!” Aiba laughed and splashed him with the bathwater.

~

Nino stood before the floor-length mirror in his chamber some hours later, studying his reflection. For all that Aiba was sometimes stupid and frequently airheaded, he surely had a gift for transformation. It was one of the reasons Nino had forbidden anyone else in the temple to tend him. The gown Aiba had made (in less than two weeks) was utterly sensational.

“You are brilliant,” Nino breathed, twisting and smiling in appreciation.

The gown made the most of Nino’s lack of curves with artful illusion. Aiba had painted directly onto his skin sleek vines in dark red from left shoulder to curve down his torso, into his right groin and curling around one thigh, lending the impression of waist and hip. The sheerest of fabrics, thinner than even nylon, layered smoothly over his pale skin. The lightest gray began in a gather at his neck, attached to a collar of darkest rubies, and fell in a nearly translucent sweep across his modest (and perfectly replicated) decolletage. The color deepened as it slid down his body, darkest at his groin to disguise his sex and nearly black where it trailed after him as he walked.

Nino twisted and turned, examining every facet of his appearance and finding no flaw that would give him away as male. He moved to stand before the light and Aiba followed, bringing the mirror. His silhouette was perfectly outlined against the light, the sheer material all but disappearing. He raised his left hand, a bracelet to match the collar encircling his wrist, “Do you think we could attach some fabric to this?” He picked at a swath from his hip and pulled it up to reveal a smooth, toned thigh.

Aiba arched a brow, “Hai, it’s possible, but... isn’t it daring enough already? Considering?”

“Considering what?”

“Considering you’re attending a fete to celebrate the coronation of the Queen?”

Nino grinned, “I’m not there to celebrate the Queen, Aiba-chan. I’m there to be flaunted and fucked and the more obvious it is to everyone attending, the happier the Prince will be. And I  _ do _ want him happy.”

“Very well.” Aiba smiled and knelt in front of Nino, cutting a slit into each of the layers of fabric, almost high enough to reveal Nino as a man and not the woman he was purporting himself to be that night. He made quick work of the alterations. The two top-most layers he attached to the bracelet, and the last he left alone to flutter and tease about Nino’s legs as he walked.

Nino endured the poking and prodding with patience born of long hours spent in prayer to  _ Ruiru _ as a child. He thought ahead to the evening and hoped the Prince would be pleased. He wet his lips, wondering how and where and when they might slip away to enjoy the freedom afforded by the gown.

“Mmm, Aiba-chan?” He tipped his head, “What happens to the fabric if it gets...wet?”

Aiba’s dancing eyes darted up to Nino’s face, “You’ll get a big huge wet spot.”

“That’s....unfortunate.”

“Mmm,” he giggled. “I made the fabric darker in certain places on purpose. I don’t think you’ll have a problem.” He hesitated, “Unless you get really, really wet.”

“Mmm,” he hoped by that time they would be somewhere more comfortable than the ballroom.

Aiba fussed and adjusted to his heart’s content and then set to work on Nino’s hair and makeup. Aiba had commissioned a wig, black hair to match Nino’s own, and pinned it in place. He’d collected a few flowers of blood red to weave into the gently waving locks and he’d created a perfect color palette that complimented Nino’s pale skin rather than wash it out.

When they were finished, Nino stood before him, arms outstretched, and turned in a slow circle. “Well?”

Aiba nodded, “Every man there will want you and every woman will hate you.”

“Yes, but will they know who I am?”

He shook his head, “Hell, Nino, if I walked into this room right now I wouldn’t recognize you.”

“Perfect.”

~

It would hardly do for the royal carriage to be seen arriving at the Temple; not because it was unseemly -- it was hardly unusual for members of the Concresian court to contract with the  _ baraka-enye _ \-- but because it would too easily give away the deception. Of that much Nino and the Prince were of an accord. Written into the  _ promesse _ were the specifications of Nino’s transport in a rented carriage to an unassuming waypoint where the Prince would be waiting in all his fine regalia inside a lavishly decorated carriage led by six of the finest royal horses bedecked with orange silk and white gold.

Nino slid into the plain carriage with the help of a footman and sat carefully on the plush bench, his heart thrumming in his chest now that the night was finally,  _ finally _ beginning. He had been too long without a patron he realized, as a slow yearning ache settled in the pit of his belly. Seven months.

The carriage jolted as the pair of mismatched bays started and Nino sat straighter, fighting the pull of his natural slouch. He wasn’t a vain man by any definition, but the Prince had paid for perfection and it was Nino’s duty to provide. Nino sat perfectly straight, hands folded in his lap, the picture of vapid beauty as the carriage carried him to the meeting place.

He wondered while he traveled, what outrageousness the Prince would wear this evening. He was reputed to sport bright colors and patterns in an effort to stand out from his siblings, a classic bid for attention from the youngest child in the royal family. Nino thought there was something more to it. Something akin to the Prince’s obvious desire to thwart the expectations of his parents, family, and friends. Nino wanted the answer to be that simple, would almost convince himself of it, and then the Prince would do or say something that would make Nino’s head spin and he’d find himself intrigued all over again.

After far too long and before he was ready, the carriage came to a halt and the footman opened the door. Nino waited a few beats and then slowly emerged, eyes downcast and limbs graceful as he took the hand proffered to assist him down. With both feet on the ground, he sank smoothly into a deep curtsy, his left hand sweeping out to reveal a flash of bare thigh, “Good evening, your Highness.”

“Save it for the ballroom, Ninomiya,” Came the sharp retort and Nino straightened, taking no pains to disguise his grin.

“I thought we agreed you’d call me Kazue tonight,” he replied cheekily, altering his voice an octave.

The Prince was as ostentatiously dressed as Nino had expected. A billowing emerald green overcoat wrapped around the length of his arms and down his back in the current ‘winged’ style so popular in court. His collar glittered dimly in the moonlight and the sparkles dripped down the royal purple of his silk shirt, mostly obscured by the formal suit jacket he wore over it. Nino continued his perusal, his gaze sliding down the Prince's thighs, wrapped tightly in velveteen black leather, and all the way to the gray leather shoes encasing his feet.

For all the flamboyance, he seemed uncomfortable under Nino’s inspection. “We’re not there yet,” he grumbled and grabbed Nino’s wrist, pulling him to the royal carriage a few paces away.

“Why, Jun-kun, is this any way to treat a lady?”

Jun’s response was an indistinguishable grumbling as he opened the door to the royal carriage and guided Nino inside.

Nino took a seat, wisely opting for silence as Jun followed. He watched the other man through shadowed lashes, trying to gauge his mood. It pleased him some, that the prince was comfortable enough with Nino that he no longer forced himself to unerring congeniality. The carriage took off at a fast clip, and Nino fluttered his fingers through the long locks of borrowed hair, watching Jun cross and re-cross his legs.

“Are you displeased, your Highness?” He asked, his voice canted to softer tones, maintaining the guise of womanhood.

Eyes dark as coals raked down Nino’s body and he knew, despite whatever he might say, that Jun was exceedingly pleased. “Hmmm.”

“Then, may I ask why you’re sitting so very far away?”

“You may,” he replied.

Nino teased the thin material of his dress aside, baring little more than an ankle. “Is the temptation too great, your Majesty?”

“Hardly.”

“Ahhh,” his mouth curved naturally into a wry smirk. “Well, that’s disappointing. I shall have to have words with my dresser, then.” Nino wet his lips in thought, canting his head to the side as his fingers grazed the ruby collar at his neck.

“Don’t. You look--” Jun’s words caught in his throat, too inadequate to voice.

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

Nino knew by the spark of intensity in Jun’s eyes that it was a command he had no choice but to follow. It was not for Jun’s sake, or even his own, but the precept of  _ Ruiru _ that guided him to kneel at Jun’s feet in the swaying carriage. He rested his hand upon Jun’s leather clad knee, heat radiating from his skin and urged the Prince’s legs to part to make space.

“Nino--”

His deft fingers grazed between Jun’s legs, ghosting over the swelling ridge of his erection. Nino smiled, honest and happy, knowing he had  _ Ruiru’s _ blessing in this moment. Jun’s breath hitched and Nino knew he was confused, but the spark was there, poorly hiding the need burning beneath.

“We haven’t even arrived-- My offering is still at the palace--” Jun stuttered as Nino’s touch grew bolder.

Nino rested his cheek on Jun’s knee, massaging Jun’s growing erection, gaze cast upward. “I know it’s easy to forget, but I am of the Temple of Ruiru. A priest, as a matter of fact,” he grinned affectionately. “In her heart,  _ Ruiru _ cares not for  _ promesse’s _ and offerings, my Lord. Only this.” He squeezed Jun’s cock through his clothes. “And the grace which she can bestow to those who come to her in need.”

“I  _ don’t _ need--”

“You do.” He undid Jun’s belt with dexterous fingers, his skin prickling with godly awareness as he freed Jun from the confines of his clothes. “There’s no point in pretending.” His small hand lovingly caressed the hard heat of Jun’s cock.

“But I don’t n--”

Nino kissed the tip of Jun’s cock, lips lingering for a beat. “Ruiru’s Gift is mine to give when I see fit, your Majesty.” Long gone were the girlish tones, the playful snark, all the things that made Nino  _ Nino _ and in their place were the holy echoes of his calling. “Close your eyes and welcome it.”

Jun’s hand carded into Nino’s hair in acquiescence, head falling back with a long sigh. Satisfied, Nino kissed the head of Jun’s cock again, inhaling his clean scent as he felt Ruiru’s Touch suffuse through his being. Fingers tight at Jun’s base, Nino fluttered kisses along his cock, occasionally flicking his tongue lightly across the hard flesh.

“Please...” Jun’s voice was strained, unwilling to beg even as the word slipped out.

“Mmmm,” Nino hummed in answer, lips sliding up to the tip of Jun’s cock. He lavished the sensitive flesh with his tongue. Moaning, Jun’s fingers moved to the nape of Nino’s neck, five heady points of pressure urging him on.

Still, he took his time, letting the benevolence of  _ Ruiru _ guide him. He shifted closer, parting his lips to welcome the weight of Jun’s cock on his tongue. His blood warmed with every slow bob of his head, taking Jun’s cock deeper into his throat. Jun’s soft sighs drifted down to Nino’s ears and he hummed in response. There was nothing quite so intoxicating to Nino as worship with lips and tongue and mouth.

Jun’s hips started to tilt upward to match the rhythm of Nino’s mouth, “Yes...”

The carriage came to a halt and Jun slammed his fist against the roof twice, forbidding anyone to open the door. Nino sighed, sucking Jun’s cock down to the root, his tip hitting the back of Nino’s throat. Jun’s loud moan left no mistake as to what was going on in the carriage and Nino trembled with the thrill of giving such pleasure in front of the palace where all the lords and ladies passing outside would hear.

Jun gave a wordless shout, as if reading Nino’s mind, and Nino sucked firmly at the tip of his cock, lips red and swollen as he swallowed every drop of the Prince’s cum.

Nino’s lips gentled, soft and teasing over Jun’s sex until the Prince had to grab his chin to make him stop, leaning down to kiss Nino with breathless hunger. He nipped at Nino’s lips, tongue stroking over Nino’s and making the smaller man moan with hunger of his own, fingers pressing into Jun’s thighs.

Jun broke the kiss first, gazing down at Nino, “What was that?”

Nino smiled, a little dazed himself, “Ruiru’s Blessing, your majesty.”

Jun leaned back in his seat, brow furrowed as he straightened his clothes. Nino remained kneeling at his feet. “You’ve not done it like that before.”

“Mmmm,” Nino continued to smile, “It’s not a thing of choice, your majesty, but of need.”

“I told you, I don’t need--”

“ _ Ruiru _ thought differently,” Nino replied serenely.

“That’s...” he trailed off.

“Are you not pleased?” Nino licked his lips, still tingling.

“You know I am,” he replied softly.

“And it is only the beginning,” Nino chirped, straightening. “Shall we go?”

~

The fete was to honor the coronation of Jun’s oldest sister, Meisa, which had occurred earlier in the day. Nobles of the realm, visiting dignitaries, and ambassadors from leagues away had traveled to Concresia for celebration and it delighted Nino to no end that he was considered the most mysterious creature in the room. Eyes followed him everywhere. Women asked where he was from, who’d designed his gown, how had he met the youngest Prince of Concresia. Men brushed up against him, stole dances, and politely (or less than politely) made indecent proposals right under the Prince of Concresia’s nose.

“My Lady.” Nino felt Jun’s hand at his elbow, knowing it was the Prince’s though his back was turned, rescuing Nino from dancing with yet another dignitary whose hand was creeping lower and lower down Nino’s bare back. Nino smiled, effortlessly spinning away from the Ambassador from Alpia and into Jun’s arms.

“Mmm, Your Majesty, I was just having the most fascinating conversation with-- oh, what was his name?”

“I’m sure you were,” Jun drawled, and Nino was pleased to see that the Prince was as amused by the attention Nino received as he was.

“He was quite interested in what material I’d had my gown made of.”

“Oh, was he?” Jun’s hand moved to the small of Nino’s back, pulling him closer. His palm moved downward, lower than the Ambassador’s had dared in a crowded ballroom.

“Yes,” Nino’s breath caught. “I wouldn’t tell him. Can’t give away the secrets of my trade.”

Jun squeezed the curve of Nino’s ass, pulling the other man’s pelvis tight against his own. “And what trade is that?”

“Daughter of a cloth merchant,” he whispered, lips parted and tilted up to Jun’s, hoping for a kiss.

It was both vexing and scintillating that Jun knew him well enough to graze just the corner of Nino’s mouth before drawing away and putting Nino’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “It’s time to present you to the Queen, my Lady.”

Nino’s spine straightened just a little and he added a gentle sway to his hips, understanding that this was to be the pinnacle of the evening. They approached the dais where the Queen sat, overseeing the party, and taking congratulations from her guests, one by one. Privately, Nino thought that being Queen would have been extremely tedious. Jun should be glad he was so far in line from the throne.

“Congratulations, my sister.” Jun swept into a precise and graceful bow, while half a step behind, Nino gave a deep curtsey, the lines of his gown, flashing smooth, pale skin all the way up his thigh. “You will be a most excellent and kind Queen.”

Meisa leaned forward in her chair. “Cut the crap, Junpon. Who's the girl?”

Nino stifled a laugh, holding his curtsey as Jun straightened. “Is that any way for a Queen to greet her citizens?”

“Ah, so she  _ is _ one of ours? I wasn’t sure. Rise, girl.”

Nino set his gaze just low enough not to meet Queen Meisa’s eyes, even though he desperately wanted to. She was older than Jun, but she had the exotic look about her pronounced eyes and features that left no doubt she was one of Concresia’s royal line. “Congratulations on your coronation, your Majesty.”

“Mmmm,” the Queen studied him and for half a second, Nino was filled with sudden fear that their charade was in bad taste. “Pretty thing, little brother. Wherever did you find her?”

“Oh, here and there,” he said dismissively. “Her name is Kazue.”

The Queen cast her brother a knowing look, “Keep her out of mother’s sight. She’ll not like that you dared bring a commoner to the ball, let alone somewhat else.”

“I’m not exactly a commoner, Your Majesty,” Nino chimed sweetly.

Her eyes lit upon Nino for a beat, interest sparking there, “Nor are you exactly a woman.”

Nino paled slightly and felt a massive wave of relief as the Queen leaned back in her chair with a grin. “I’ll not thwart your fun, Junpon, but if Mother finds out, I’ll claim I knew nothing.”

“As you say,” Jun bowed and took Nino’s arm, leading him away.

Nino stumbled for a few steps, “Your sister is...”

“Yes?”

“A lot scarier than you,” Nino smiled and kissed him lightly.

Jun laughed, “She is, yes. Come, it’s time we ate.”

The hall tables were covered in a never-ending supply of food; guests came and went from them as they pleased. Jun found them a spot at the end of the table with a pair of elderly Ladies who were nodding off and unlikely to instigate conversation. Nino adjusted his gown and sat carefully, perusing the table and nipping bits of fruit and bread from here and there. It wasn’t good to fuck on a full stomach.

He was plucking at a bunch of grapes when he felt the heat of Jun’s hand on his thigh. Pretending not to notice, Nino tossed a grape into his mouth. “Would you like some, your majesty? They’re quite juicy this time of year.”

Smirking, Jun opened his mouth. Wetting his lips, Nino felt the giant ballroom shrink around them, the music and chatter fading into the background. Plucking a grape from the vine, he placed it against Jun’s tongue, sweeping his fingertip across Jun’s lower lip.

“Good, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“Delicious,” he agreed. “Another.”

Nino met his smile with a quick kiss and another grape. Jun’s hand crept higher on Nino’s thigh, his fingers tickling as he teased away the layers of thin fabric. Nino did his best not to shudder and he shifted in his seat to move closer.

“Have you tried the sweet bread, my Prince?” He ripped off a bite-size piece. “It’s quite good if a bit... sticky.” Jun’s lips parted again, and Nino fed him, his eyes dilating as Jun’s tongue darted out to lick his fingers.

“Delicious,” he agreed. “I do believe I’d like some more.”

“Is everyone in the royal family so greedy?” Nino’s breath caught as Jun’s clever fingers traced the outline of his growing erection. “Or only the ones I sign a  _ promesse _ with?”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever signed with,” Jun said voice low as he caressed Nino under the table.

He gave an affronted gasp, feeding Jun another piece of sweet bread. “Cocky, aren’t you, your Majesty. I’m quite popular among the royal court, you know.”

Jun squeezed, making Nino jump and his cheeks flush. “Oh, I know. I also know that you haven’t signed a  _ promesse _ since our last.” At Nino’s look, Jun shrugged, “Your exploits are closely followed by the realm, Kazue.”

“Mmm,” he tried to appear much more collected than he felt. “After so many years of service, I’ve the luxury of being selective. And besides,” he squirmed against Jun’s insistent caresses, “After bedding a Prince of Concresia a few times, my asking price will go even higher.”

“We’ll see.” He stood abruptly and grabbed Nino’s wrist. “Come. I feel like a dance.”

Nino pulled back, “I can’t go anywhere at the moment,  _ your Majesty _ , or our fun will be ruined.”

Jun’s eyes fell to the tented fabric of Nino’s dress and gave him a wicked smile, “Not likely. Come.”

Nino followed in Jun’s shadow, moving between the milling party-goers until they reached the center of the ballroom floor, where Jun grasped him firm about the waist, pulling their bodies flush. “There now, you see.”

Nino shuddered, the heat of Jun’s hand burning at the small of his back. “All I see is a man used to being given what he wants or simply taking it.”

“And which will you be?” Jun drawled, his hand moving possessively down to Nino’s ass in full view of the realm and with full confidence that the crassness of it would make Nino’s cock swell. “Given or taken?”

“I believe,” Nino said slowly, to steady his breath. “I was purchased.”

“For tonight, yes.” Jun released Nino abruptly, sending him into a spin, the multiple layers of gray flaring out around his legs, flashing bare skin temptingly before falling back into place as Jun drew him into his arms again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nino asked, blinking up at the Prince, slightly dazed as Jun’s fingers slid to the back of his neck.

“Mmm, I think for tonight, you will be taken.” He replied, firmly squeezing the back of Nino’s neck. “How does that sound to you, my sweet Kazue?”

He whimpered, lips parting. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Why not right here, in the ballroom?” Jun purred as they danced. Nino’s hips rolled impatiently forward. “Oh, you do like that idea, don’t you? I could flip up your skirts and take you from behind... no one would even know I wasn’t fucking your pussy.”

Nino’s head spun with desire and he wound his arms around Jun’s neck, “Oh, yes, my Lord. Please fuck me. Right here. Right now.”

Jun growled, “I do like it when you beg, pretty girl.”

“Please,” he rasped. It was no effort at all for him to form the words on his tongue, heavy with need. “Please, I want you to fuck me where anyone could see. I want your cock pounding into me, filling me, so that I feel it for days afterward. Please,” Nino trembled as both of Jun’s hands gripped his ass, kneading and squeezing. “I beg of you, fuck me hard. Please, my Prince. I need you.”

With little ceremony, Jun caught Nino’s mouth in a forceful kiss. Nino’s arms wound around his neck to hold himself steady as he answered with lips and tongue all of Jun’s demands. He barely noticed as Jun maneuvered them to the edge of the dance floor. “Here,” Jun growled, breaking the kiss to grab Nino’s wrist and tug him around a pillar and pin him against it.

“Mine,” he growled, forcing Nino’s hands over his head and claiming his mouth once again. Nino truly meant to protest, Jun liked it when he did, but he couldn’t muster his skills at playacting. They were drowned out by the desire thrumming through his veins, his pulse pounding in his head, his cock throbbing between them.

Nino wanted Jun.

Not as Kazue, not as his duty, not as  _ baraka-enye _ , not as a trophy to raise his asking price, but as Nino. Himself wanting another. No, he thought as Jun’s tongue was rough and hot in his mouth, not another. Jun.

“Yes,” he gasped, arching his body against the hard planes of Jun’s. “Yours.”

Satisfied, Jun broke his hold on Nino and pulled him away from the pillar and deeper into the shadows that hid a servants’ passage. “Here,” he kissed Nino again. “I’ll fuck you right here.”

“Please.” He sought another kiss, moaning when Jun rewarded him with one.

“Turn around.” Jun nipped at his mouth, sucking for a moment on Nino’s lower lip.

“Yes, my Lord.” Nino braced his hands on the stone wall, waiting for Jun’s next command, relishing every moment. He shivered as Jun’s fingers trailed down his spine.

“Bend over.”

When he did, Jun unceremoniously flipped up the gauzy fabric, pushing it midway up Nino’s back and leaving him bare from the waist down. He immediately cupped his ass and squeezed, “Ahh, you are...”

“I am?” Nino breathed, swaying his hips back and forth.

“Stop that,” Jun smacked his ass, making Nino jump and moan aloud. Jun soothed the reddened skin with another affectionate squeeze and gave the other cheek the same treatment, leaning down to kiss the pinkened flesh.

Nino thought he might pass out when Jun’s tongue darted out to draw patterns on his skin. “Fuck, please, fuck... please, Jun--”

The Prince knelt on the floor, both hands squeezing Nino’s ass. Jun’s tongue was rough and wet, drawing a slow line along Nino’s cleft. The smaller man shuddered, he’d provided this service for others, no one had ever diegned to return it. “Ohhh, Jun...”

Nino’s breath caught as Jun’s skilled tongue teased his opening, his breath hot and damp against his skin. A lascivious moan escaped Nino’s throat as Jun’s tongue pressed inside with slow, curious pressure. Nino’s knees felt weak and he made inarticulate pleas for more, less, harder, slower, faster. Jun answered with a moan and shallow thrusts of his tongue until Nino’s writhing impatience made it impossible.

Jun got back to his feet, unable to resist another hard smack to Nino’s ass that made the  _ baraka-enye _ twitch. “Your majesty, I need you--” His hips swayed impatiently and he looked over his shoulder, “Jun, I need you to fuck me.”

Jun nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes dark as he dug in his pocket for a small vial. “Yes, oh, you need it, don’t you? Say it.”

Nino’s lashes fluttered closed as Jun dribbled the lubricant over his cleft, “Yes, I need it.”

“No.” Jun smacked him again and Nino gasped, “Say it.”

“I need  _ you! _ ”

Jun rewarded him by pressing his hard cock against Nino’s ass, rocking against the other man and humming in pleasure. “Ahh, so good...”

Nino pulled up at his skirts, his hand wrapping around his cock and pumping impatiently, “Fuck me properly. I want your cock inside me, deep and hard. Please, my Lord--” He cried out when Jun forced his arm behind his back, “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“No, my Lord,” He whimpered. As much as Nino enjoyed power play, this was too much. He didn’t  _ want _ to play. He wanted Jun inside him, never to leave.

The Prince released his arm and drew back, the head of his cock, nudging against Nino’s opening, “Is this what you want?” he rasped. “Tell me. Tell me, Nino. Tell me what you want.”

“Ahhh, yes,” Nino pressed backward, encouraging and more than a little desperate. “I want your big cock inside me. I want you to fuck me hard so that I can’t feel anything else for days. I want--” he moaned as Jun inched inward. “I want you, Jun. I want you-- I want--”

Jun’s hand stroked up and down Nino’s back, wrinkling the fabric of his gown and forcing it higher, “Good... oh, my Nino.” He withdrew and rocked forward, going deeper each time until he was buried as deep as he could go and Nino was squirming against him.

“Fuck, I don’t want to move,” Jun moaned, his fingers digging bruises into Nino’s hip.

“I think I’ll die if you don’t,” Nino rasped.

“Can’t have that.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Nino’s bare shoulder and then started to fuck him.

Nino quavered, arms braced against the wall and his back arched as Jun pounded into him. The pleasure was sharp, a high pitched note singing through his blood. He didn’t know what sounds he made, if he begged or pleaded or praised. Dimly, in the back of his Temple-trained mind, he knew this lack of self-awareness was a problem. His patron’s pleasure was paramount and his own was nothing in comparison.

But that voice was weak and easily quelled by the certainty that his pleasure couldn’t possibly be anything less than equal to Jun’s. It wasn’t possible to feel this good alone.

Jun’s thrusts grew faster, his hands greedy on Nino’s body as he neared climax. Nino met his thrusts fervently, their bodies slamming together in perfect feverish harmony. Jun gave a hoarse shout as he came, hips stuttering against Nino’s ass, Jun’s release pulsing hot inside him.

Nino whimpered, crying out in disappointment when Jun abruptly pulled away. He manhandled Nino back against the wall and fell to his knees, immediately taking Nino’s cock in his mouth and sucking with all the hunger of a dying man. Nino’s hands flew to his hair and he thrust into the wet heat of Jun’s mouth over and over again until he saw stars.

Through languorous eyes, Nino watched as Jun leaned back, licking his lips of the drops of cum at the corners of his mouth. The Prince pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and made tidy work of cleaning Nino up--though, at this point, nothing would make him presentable again.

Nino didn’t much care.

Satisfied, Jun climbed to his feet and made adjustments to his own clothes. “I think it’s time we said our goodnights and retired.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Nino nodded, still leaning weakly against the wall.

Jun took his hand, threading their fingers, “Come.”

Nino’s heart skipped a riotous beat.

~

Word had spread beyond the palace walls by mid-afternoon that a mysterious beauty had gone into Prince Matsumoto’s room the night of Queen Meisa’s coronation and emerged the next morning as the renowned _malaya_ Ninomiya. Normally, such gossip and speculation would have made Nino near giddy with amusement, so Aiba couldn’t figure out what could possibly have his oldest friend so preoccupied.

“Nino?” Aiba asked, kneeling a few steps away from the bath, a towel ready in his lap for nearly half an hour. “You’re beginning to prune.”

“Eh? No--what?”

“You’re being weird,” Aiba accused bluntly when Nino’s eyes finally focused on him.

Nino raised his hand out of the water, studying the wrinkles with distant eyes. “Oh.”

Impatient (and worried), Aiba stood and grabbed his hand. “Come on, up.”

Standing, Nino let Aiba buff him dry, doing best not to let his thoughts drift back to that morning in bed with Prince Jun. The way sunlight had glinted in his hair, the sleepy flush of color on his cheeks, the dance of hard-won affection in his eyes.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Aiba demanded, literally leading Nino into a robe.

“Tell you?” He asked vacantly.

“Yes! What happened? You’re acting like---I don’t even know  _ what _ you’re acting like!”

“Gomen,” Nino’s brow furrowed, “It’s just...”

“What?” He stamped his foot impatiently.

Nino walked away, going to the small satchel he’d brought with him back from the palace. Aiba waited impatiently as Nino dug through it and pulled out a gold chain, a ruby amulet with the sigil of Ruiru emblazoned within it.

“Is that...?” Aiba breathed, his whole being going still.

“Yes,” Nino murmured. “He must have commissioned it weeks and weeks ago...”

“No one has given a  _ raka _ the Amulet of Ruiru in living memory,” Aiba approached slowly, his fingers reaching to touch the chain reverently. His eyes met Nino’s, “Will you wear it?”

Every breath felt heavy in Nino’s lungs. The Amulet of Ruiru was given to a  _ baraka-enye _ as a love token and a question. Jun had not said the words, only presented Nino with the gift and sent him on his way back to the Temple in a daze. Nino had never considered leaving the service of  _ Ruiru _ , but if he wore the amulet, he would be doing just that and pledging himself to Prince Jun and Jun to him.

“Nino,” Aiba touched his arm, “Will you wear it?”

“That depends,” he looked at his friend, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “Do you think palace life would suit you?”


End file.
